


Rare Occurences

by HannibabestheCannibabes



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Detective, First Kiss, Homophobia, M/M, Police, Realisation of feelings, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibabestheCannibabes/pseuds/HannibabestheCannibabes
Summary: After Kent is assaulted during a interview, DI Chandler offers to clean his wounds.





	1. Chapter 1

**Rare Occurences**

It was unseasonably warm for Whitechapel. Kent sighed as he climbed out of the car, and squinted in the sunlight up at the building before them.  As he shut the door, DI Joseph Chandler walked around from the driver’s seat, photo in hand. He held it out in front of Kent for a final look.

‘This is the man we need to find.’ They’d had photos all over the incident room for the last two days, and by now Kent felt the man’s face would be burnt into his memory forever. Mid-thirties. Caucasian. Bald. Heavy facial scarring- both of the acne, and the assault kind. England tattoo just peeping over the top of his t-shirt on his neck.

‘Right you are, sir.’ Kent nodded, and the two men feel into step silently as they approached the building. After a couple of minutes, he asked, ‘so tomorrow, leaving slightly early, is that alright? It’s only a one-off, and I wouldn’t usually ask but…’

‘It’s fine.’ Chandler glanced over at his younger colleague, and couldn’t help but smile at the look of relief on the man’s face. ‘Besides, you’re still asking to leave long after your shift is supposed to have finished, I can’t refuse that really.’ _He looked younger_ , the Inspector couldn’t help but think, _with such an expression on his face_. Amidst all the cases, the generic and the gory, Chandler almost forgot just how young Kent was. ‘What are you doing then? To need to leave? Appointment?’

He thought of his own appointments- the hours and hours of excruciating counselling he’d attended over his life- but Kent shook his head. ‘It’s nothing serious. I just promised someone I’d accompany them somewhere.’

‘A date?’ The Inspector felt the sink of disappointment in his stomach, from quite where he couldn’t pinpoint. _Kent’s level of professionalism perhaps…_

‘No. Not at all. The younger man blushed lightly at the suggestion, looking away. ‘It’s silly. My housemate is an artist. Her show opens tomorrow and I promised her I’d take her. She split up with her boyfriend, and that was partially my fault, so I feel bad and…’ He glanced over, noting the hand line of the Inspector’s lips, and he stopped. ‘I’m sorry, that was too much information.’

‘No.’ Chandler shook his head, but could not shake the gnawing in his stomach that, whilst momentarily lifted at learning Kent was not so unprofessional he would ask for time to date, had started again with the news of Kent’s flatmate. He’d never asked, but he’d always assumed Kent lived like him, reminding him as much as he did of a younger self. Perhaps a more stable self. _But then_ , he felt his subconscious hiss, _when have you ever investigated such a thought?_  ‘I didn’t know you had housemates.’

It has a statement more than a question, but Kent looked over and smiled gratefully for the awkward silence between the men being broken. ‘Yes, it was my housemate and her boyfriend, but he’s moved out now because of the…when I say I caused the split, sir, I didn’t mean in that way, there were just some complications…’

‘Of course.’ He couldn’t quite fathom Kent’s concern about leaving such an impression, though the thought had crossed the Inspector’s mind. ‘How is it? Living with housemates? I’ve never had the experience.’

‘Really, sir?’ Kent asked, surprised. At the expression on his boss’s face, he felt his own go slightly red again. ‘I just assumed…London house prices and that…’

‘No, I haven’t ever lived with anyone. Not as an adult…’ _Perhaps too much detail_. It was Chandler’s turn to be grateful as Kent ignored the statement.

‘It’s fine- having housemates, that is. I wouldn’t choose to, if I could help it, but it’s manageable. I’m a lot cleaner than she is; the first few weeks badly, constantly had to tidy her art supplies for her. But now I keep the house clean mainly, she works in her own room…’

Kent stopped as a tall man walked out of the double doors just in front of them. He was broad and bald- and clearly drunk. He staggered against a wall, then turned round as he heard the footsteps of the men behind him. He took one look at them, and swore loudly. As Chandler took a step closer, he turned and started to run. The speed took both officers by surprise.

‘I hate the ones who run,’ Kent muttered under his breath and, still dressed in his long overcoat, took off after the suspect, and his Inspector.

* * *

 

Two hours later, and Joseph Chandler had his suspect waiting in an interview room. Kent was sat at his desk, typing up some information from a file  when Chandler approached him.

‘Kent,’ he said, and the DC looked up, eyes bright. His hair seemed slightly wilder than usual, a combination of the run earlier and the sweating caused by the weather. But the Inspector didn’t seem to mind the touch of untidiness. _Not on Kent_. ‘I want you to lead the interview with me now.’

‘I’m sorry, sir?’ It was a rare occurrence- a DC taking precedent in an interview with a DI.

‘You caught him. You brought him in. He’s your suspect.’ He kept his face still, but he felt a swell of pride for his officer as he stood up, nodding, and followed Chandler to the interview room.

The suspect looked up when the two men walked into the room. At the sight of them, he spat on the floor. ‘I ain’t being interviewed by no queer.’

Chandler stopped. ‘I’m sorry…’

Kent however, was already seated, all brightness in his eyes extinguished to be replaced by a steely element. ‘Graham Allen, my name is DC Kent and this is DI Chandler.’ He gestured to the Inspector, who had sat down silently. ‘Do you understand why you’re here?’

‘Nah. So you either need to tell me or let me go.’

‘We need you to answer some questions about the night of the 7th April.’

‘Well, I ain’t answering if you’re asking.’ He sneered at Kent before leaning back. ‘Fucking poof.’

Chandler opened his mouth to intervene, but Kent had already started speaking. His voice was calm, eye contact constant. There was no sign here of the officer from earlier, talking about his housemate with a blush. Not even the suspect’s language seemed to get a response from him. Chandler felt his earlier sense of pride increase as he watched his officer at work. He’d underestimated Kent, he couldn’t help but think. He remembered his first impression of him- young, dressed in some vastly inappropriate casual wear for work. He certainly hadn’t been the worst of the officers on the Whitechapel team, but watching him now he realised he’d underestimated him since then. He didn’t look like a simple officer sat in that interrogation. His face was hard, his questioning relentless but careful. Even his dark mess of hair couldn’t diminish the cut of his suit, the way his being seemed to demand respect.

It was like watching Kent properly for the first time.

He was aware suddenly of a shift in the suspect. Chandler realised with a jolt that he’d lost track of the interview, his eyes so firmly following the tiny movements of his officer as he spoke. But now he glanced to the suspect, who was frowning deeply, the veins visibly pulsing in his neck.

‘I ain’t no fucking snitch,’ he shouted, banging a large hand on the table.

‘I’m not suggesting it. But if that’s your alibi, we need the names of the people you were with in order to check it.’ Kent was still calm, his voice level, unintimidated by the suspect’s attempts.

‘I ain’t a snitch.’

‘Names.’

‘I ain’t giving them to you.’

‘Then I have no choice. Graham Allen, I am arresting…’

‘I ain’t being arrested by no fucking homo queer.’

The next minute happened far quicker than Chandler had experienced. One moment, his eyes were firmly fixed on the suspect, who was sat on the other side of the interview table. The next, the suspect was on top of Kent, who he had thrown to the floor, and he was hitting him repeatedly in the face, with each punch matched with a roared  ‘queer.’

Chandler jumped up. He felt himself shout, though what he couldn’t make out, but Miles and Mansell hurtled into the room, pulling the suspect off Kent, who was lying on the floor groaning, his face bloody. They dragged him out as Meg came to the door.

‘Water. Tissue. Ointment. Something,’ he ordered as he dropped to the floor to Kent’s side. Kent had sat up slightly, leaning on his elbow. ‘Kent, are you alright?’

‘Been better, sir.’ He looked up at Chandler and gave a weak smile. Meg returned, placing a bowl of water, cloth, and some sort of cream on the table, and helped Chandler lift Kent from the ground. Legs shaking, they lowered him onto one of the chairs.

‘Do you want me to call an ambulance, sir?’ She asked, glancing at Kent’s bloody face. ‘Kent?’

‘No. I’m fine. Just need a tidy.’ Kent raised a hand, gesturing to his face, the blood from his nose starting to drip onto the table. ‘If you get me a mirror, I can sort myself out.’

‘I’m first aid trained, if you want?’

‘No, thank you,’ Chandler interrupted. ‘It’s my fault this happened, I’ll sort this.’

‘Let me know if you need anything.’

Meg nodded to Kent as she left, and Chandler picked up the chair the officer had previously been in, and sat beside him. He took a long look, trying to assess the damage done. Blood was definitely coming from his nose, and there was a slight cut above the eyebrow, perhaps from a ring they hadn’t noticed on the suspect’s hand. _Nothing too bad though._ He felt his stomach unclench with the realisation.

‘It’s not your fault, sir,' Kent murmured as Chandler picked up the cloth and soaked it in the water, before very lightly dabbing the other man’s cheek. ‘You couldn’t have done anything.’

‘I should have stopped the interview when he expressed such early prejudice.’ He raised his other hand to hold Kent’s head steady, placing long fingers against the man’s cheek. He could have sworn he saw Kent flush under the contact, but he said nothing. In the silence, a drop of Kent’s blood fell on the Inspector’s shirt, the red spreading across the cotton. He felt nothing.

‘It’s not the first time I’ve been beaten for that, sir. It won’t be the last time.’ Kent shrugged weakly, as Chandler dipped the cloth back into the water.

‘Beaten for what?’

‘Being a queer.’ Kent definitely flushed as he said that, especially as the Inspector turned so sharply. ‘I thought the whole team knew.’

‘I didn’t know.’ One of the earliest memories of Miles on the Ripper case, him mentioning how the team was very understanding. _Was that because of Kent?_

‘I just assumed.’ He shook his head. ‘Mansell jokes, you know?’ It was one of his worst fears about work- the Inspector overhearing one of Mansell’s _jokes_. At the look of concern on the other man’s face, he stuttered, ‘not, not like that. Just how he does. With everyone. I just figured everyone knew.’

‘No.’ There was another moment’s silence. Chandler was still holding the cloth in his hands. ‘I suppose me asking about your housemate earlier now makes more sense?’

‘I was confused.’ He gave a small smile, returned by his Inspector. He continued to lightly dab at the blood on the officer’s face.

‘So this has happened before?’

‘Yes.’

‘When?’

‘I think secondary school was the first time. People thought I was strange anyway. My sister was well-liked, but I was too quiet. Too isolated. Then this as well,’ he explained bitterly, his eyes dark, before shaking his head as if to release himself. ‘Secondary school wasn’t pleasant.’

‘And then?’

‘University was the worst. I was out, with someone else. We were seeing each other,’ he said, seemingly sheepishly. Underneath Chandler’s fingers, he felt Kent’s cheek get momentarily warm. _Embarrassment_. ‘It was pretty serious actually. We spoke about living together after university finished…’ He noticed Chandler shift as if in discomfort. ‘Sorry, that was too personal.’

‘What happened? The inspector asked, turning back to the bowl in an attempt to shake the feeling from the pit of his stomach at listening to Kent speak. _He’s allowed a life,_ he felt his subconscious hiss again to him, _he’s allowed to exist beyond the walls of Whitechapel_.

‘We were out, we’d been to the pub, it was late but not too late. We’d had a couple, but we weren’t drunk. Perhaps a little loud, a little more public than we usually were.’ Chandler felt his stomach clench again at the thought. _Kent’s hand in someone’s? Arms around shoulders? Waists?_ ‘This group of men stopped us. Beat us. Kicked the shit out of us, in all honesty. I got off lightly, mainly just bruised. He didn’t. He ended up in hospital. He was too scared after that to do anything. Broke it all off with me. Erica says I cried non-stop for a month after that…Sorry, that was too personal again.’

‘You don’t need to apologise, Kent.’

‘It’s not professional to talk about things like…’

‘But it’s good to.’ The water was nearly red now, the amount of Kent’s blood that had been mixed in it. The cloth was no longer white. But Kent was looking more like himself. His eyes were both clear, the cut on his head wasn’t deep, his nose wasn’t broken. Chandler felt himself smile.

‘How do I look, sir?’

‘Like you work in Whitechapel police station,’ he responded, and was met with a warm smile in return. ‘Your face will bruise but there’s no permanent damage that I can tell. Do you feel alright?’

‘I feel fine.’ Kent nodded. ‘The bruising, should I cover that? I have the cover up still in my bag from last time…’

Chandler remembered Mansell’s bruises on Kent’s face. The disappointment he’d felt when he’d see them. Looking at Kent now, he didn’t feel that same feeling. ‘No. Unless you want to. They’ll be tender for a few days, leave them then.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ He went to stand, but saw Chandler’s hand reach for the ointment Meg had also provided. He stayed, watching as Chandler opened the tub with long fingers, and scoop out a little. Gently, he started to apply it to Kent’s face, the ointment cold against his skin. The Inspector was soft in his application, careful, ensuring the entirety of Kent’s face was covered. He closed his eyes as he ran his fingers over his skin.

‘Mansell’s jokes then? What am I missing?’ Chandler asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and something else, something Kent couldn’t quite place, as he continued to massage in the ointment.

‘It’s nothing.’

‘Nothing particularly witty then?’

‘Not really.’ He felt himself blush once more, and was pleased that the Inspector soon finished with the ointment, before he could feel again the flush in his cheeks. He opened his eyes bashfully. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘You don’t need to keep thanking me. I’m glad you’re alright.’ He stood, placing the cloth into the bowl of water, looking at the deep red of both. _Strange, how little either bothered him_. Kent stood up also, shakily, still not entirely balanced after the assault. He took a step forward, and stumbled, falling into the Inspector, who grabbed him quickly, holding him steady.

‘I’m sorr…Thank you, sir.’

He looked up, eyes wide, dark eyelashes against his skin. Chandler felt his stomach clench once more, as he looked down at his officer, his hands still holding his arms still, his body still pressed against his own. _Perhaps_ …

Chandler felt his blood pounding in his ears, his heart racing in the anticipation he had long since realised he could still feel, and he lent down to kiss Kent gently. As their lips met, he felt his stomach relax, his head get light. The moment didn’t last long, not long enough to the Inspector, before Kent was breaking it off, but only to shift lightly, to tilt his head for a clearer angle and he kissed Chandler more firmly.

The Inspector pulled away suddenly from the second kiss, keeping his face close, whispering, ‘I haven’t done this before, Kent.’

‘With an officer?’

‘With a man.’

And with that he picked up the bowl and ointment from the table and turned to walk out of the interview room with a start.


	2. Chapter 2

_Unprofessional. Horribly unprofessional._

Chandler sat at his desk, office door closed, and reached for the tin on his desk, pulling it open to rub its contents on his temples, as if such a move would stop him thinking. He wasn’t surprised to find it did not, and he sat back in his chair with a sigh.

He'd gone immediately from the interview room to the bathroom, almost ripping off his shirt to replace it with one of the crisp spares he kept ready. _Something clean, something pure._ But then his hand almost shook in hesitation as he held the crumpled, blood stained material in hand. His imagination perhaps, but it seemed to smell of Kent. The feel of his chest pressed against his own.

How did he feel? That was the question. Embarrassed. Ashamed. _Pleased_. He remembered the pounding in his chest as he had kissed Kent, the touch of his lips against his own. He'd been expecting something different, but kissing a man had not felt vastly different to kissing a woman. Perhaps that was just kissing Kent, lips far softer than Chandler had imagined. Had he imagined how kissing Kent would feel? That was another question. He had always looked at him more favourably than other members of the team, but he thought that was because he saw his younger self in Kent. So what had changed? _He'd found out Kent was gay._ But he wasn’t…was he? No. Not before Kent. He had felt nothing like this before Kent…

Chandler shook his head. All the thought in the world would get him nowhere. It wouldn’t change what happened. It wouldn’t lessen his panic. It certainly couldn't stop his growing sense of shame as he sat alone, staring out at the team. Kent thankfully was not there.   
  
A knock on the door of his office. Before Chandler had a chance to say anything, Miles strode in. 'How's Kent, boss?'

He felt like his mouth was numb, the way his words seemed to stammer out. 'Oh, he's fine,'

His sergeant didn’t seem to notice. 'Tough thing to happen. Kid doesn't get much luck. Then again, you do get your share of nutters here.' Miles sat down, shrugging. 'So what'd he do? Just take a dislike to Kent? Was it the hair?'

'No, he was homophobic,' Chandler said slowly.

A frown. 'And you let Kent conduct the interview?'

'I didn't know Kent was gay. Is gay. I didn't know about Kent.'

'How could you not know?' Miles asked, in amused disbelief. 'I thought you were just bad with the women, not men too. I mean, my powers of observation are shaky in that department, and I noticed him a mile off.’

'Don't joke, Miles.’ Chandler huffed. ‘I got Kent injured.' 

 ‘No worries, boss. He won’t be thinking that.’

  _Th_ _e feeling of Kent’s lips against his own_. ‘No. I know that.’

* * *

 

Kent returned to the office an hour or so later. He had found a clean shirt from somewhere and, despite the Inspector’s insistence that his face was fine, had covered some of the bruising that had already begun to form. He’d covered the redness of his eyes also from the bitter tears he’d been unable to prevent forming after the door slammed in the interview room.

Chandler’s door was shut. _To be expected_.

 He was carrying mugs on a tray for the rest of the team, supposedly a decision made in sympathy to spare him anything too taxing after the earlier assault. He however was not so sure.

‘Should arrange for you to take a beating more often,’ Mansell joked as Kent handed him his coffee. His colleague responded with a less than amused eye roll.

‘Thanks love.’ Meg took hers with a concerned smile. ‘You sure you’re ok? You don’t look great.’

  _T_ _he feeling in his stomach as he watched the Inspector almost run from the interview room_. ‘I’m fine honestly.’

‘Kent.’

The door to the office opened and Chandler stood in the doorway. He met his officer’s eyes in a moment that seemed to hold far longer than those that proceeded, and then watched in horror as he took a step forward, stumbled, and dropped the tray of mugs on the floor of the incident room.

 Kent froze. He knew what he should do, what the office was expecting him to do, but his body remained still. He felt a familiar warm flush in his cheeks. His limbs felt like marble. His eyes refused to leave the Inspector.

Chandler was stood, his mind slipping into frenzied panic. He felt the whole team’s eyes darting between Kent stood motionless ( _why was he so motionless?_ ) and his own frozen being. _They could see it_ , his brain was screaming in the silence, _everything that happened, they could see it_. He felt a panicked terror rise.

‘Kent.’ He finally heard himself speak, grateful. ‘Get your stuff and go home.’

‘What?’

‘Go home. Get yourself checked out. Or rest. Whichever. Come back tomorrow refreshed.’

‘I’m fine, sir.’

‘Go home, Kent.’

‘Come on, Kent, I’ll drive you.’ Miles stood up, as did Meg who started picking up the smashed mugs from the floor. ‘Sure the boss can spare me an hour.’

Kent shook off Miles’ hand from his shoulder, his eyes not leaving the Inspector’s, his voice bitter. ‘No, I can get home by myself.’

‘Suit yourself.’

As the young officer collected his belongings and stormed out of the office, Miles joined Riley on the floor, a click of the fingers summoning Mansell to assist. Chandler remained stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on the exit long after Kent’s departure.

‘Ignore Kent’s reaction, you made the right call.’ Miles stood, pulling Chandler’s gaze back to the main room. ‘He’ll go home, have a nap, be right as rain tomorrow.’

The taller man didn’t respond, merely retreating back into his office, closing the door firmly behind him.

* * *

His panic at being discovered cooled as the afternoon wore on. As the rest of the team continued to work without change, albeit one man down, he heard nothing more about earlier events. With his mind no longer fixated on such an occurrence, he was unable to shake an ever increasing sense of guilt over his treatment of his dark haired officer. Sending him home had been a snap decision, he realised regretfully. Made purely out of fear that Kent’s presence in the station would make it more obvious to the team what had happened between them. Is that how Kent would see it? _No_. How would he see it? Rejection? _Is that on top of being immediately left after the kiss?_ A voice seemed to whisper, and he reached for the tin again to block it out.

‘I need Kent’s address.’

Miles looked up from his desk, removing his glasses. ‘Sorry, boss?’

‘Kent’s address. Home address. Who has it?’ Chandler asked expectantly. When no-one spoke, he frowned. ‘Does no-one have it?’

‘Never been invented to the Kent residence,’ Mansell said, emphasising the last few words mockingly, before sniggering. ‘Not that Kent, anyway.’

‘It’ll be on the system,’ Riley suggested.

‘No. That feels invasive.’

‘What do you need it for, sir?’

‘I was going to go check on him. He’s had a difficult day, just check he’s alright for tomorrow.’ He tried to make the suggestion sound casual, rather than something he had spent the whole afternoon contemplating. He prepared for Miles to notice, for someone to spot the flush he was sure burnt on his cheeks, but the team simply nodded.

‘Well don’t worry, sir, I can check on him.’ Riley smiled.

‘Yeah, you’ve had a difficult day too. I’m sure Judy won’t mind me being home a bit later.’

‘No.’ He interrupted abruptly, causing a couple of raised eyebrows, before calming. ‘No, it’s fine. I feel…partially responsible for earlier. Call it reassurance.’

‘Well, I can always get the address off Erica.’ Mansell shrugged, picking up his phone. ‘If that’s ok?’

‘Yes. Yes, that’s good.’ Chandler turned back to his office. ‘Bring it to me when you leave.’

‘The Inspector visiting his house? Kent’ll think it’s Christmas,’ Mansell joked to Riley, before winking. ‘Or Valentine’s.’

Chandler heard every word.

* * *

Emerson Kent was cooking when he heard the knock on the door. Cursing poor timing by, no doubt his housemate’s ex-boyfriend, he turned the hob low to leave the pot to simmer and answered the door sullenly.

‘She doesn’t want to see you, which you’d know if you listened to a word…’

He stopped as he found himself looking at, instead of his old housemate, the rather sheepish face of Joseph Chandler, who was standing awkwardly on the doorstep. Kent was suddenly acutely aware he was only wearing his pyjamas.

‘Kent.’

‘Sir.’ He noticed the Inspector staring at his t-shirt, his old tracksuit bottoms. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t expecting…’

‘No. Can I come in?’

Kent stepped aside, gesturing for Chandler to enter. He did so stiffly, every movement uncomfortable. Kent took his coat and hung it up carefully, ensuring it lay smooth, something Chandler noticed appreciatively out of the corner of his eye.

‘I was cooking,’ Kent explained partially, as if to excuse the heavy scent of garlic in the house. ‘If you want…’

‘No. I’m fine. But please, don’t let me stop you…’

‘I at least need to turn it off. Stop it burning.’

Chandler followed his younger officer into the kitchen, his eyes darting around the room, as if investigating. It was clean. Tidy. He felt himself ease slightly, sitting down in the chair offered, taking a cool glass from Kent when handed to him. He watched as Kent switched a dial on the kitchen side, and covered a pot that he had presumably been cooking before. He noticed him shift slightly as he stood, hands smoothing down his trousers, before meeting his boss’ eyes with a guilty look.

‘I should go and change, sir.’

‘This is your house, Kent, you can wear whatever you choose.’ He noted the grateful look in the man’s eyes as he sat down opposite, and felt a twinge in his stomach. ‘And ‘sir’ seems a little inappropriate outside of the station. Joe is fine.’

‘Emerson, then, sir…Joe.’ He nodded with a small smile.

‘Emerson,’ he said slowly, appreciating the unfamiliar word on his tongue. He wondered momentarily how he got his name, when his sister ended up with something as fairly normal as ‘Erica.’

‘If you’re here about earlier, I’ll be better tomorrow. You don’t need to be worried about that. Today was unprofessional, I won’t be letting the team down again.’

Chandler wondered how he’d missed it before. The eager to please, the nervous apologies, the pride in his face when Chandler said the smallest thing. _Had he missed it? Really?_ ‘It’s fine. It’s all fine. But there’s something…Mansell’s jokes, are they about your feelings for me?’

He looked down, clearly embarrassed by the question, his face a combination of shame and hurt. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

‘How long have these…?’

‘A while.’ A look of panic flashed through the Inspector’s eyes, causing Kent to explain, ‘I haven’t told him. Or anyone. It’s Mansell’s attempt just to mock my work…no-one knows. I wouldn’t tell people that…I thought you knew.’

‘But it is true?’

‘I made that clear earlier.’

The memory of Kent’s lips against his own seemed to burn. Chandler stood quickly, trying to force the feeling from his mind. He faced away, taking deep breaths, before turning back. ‘What happened today…this….I don’t do this, Kent…Emerson. I don’t do these things.’

‘I don’t do these things either…’

‘What you said earlier, about the boy in university…I’ve never done that. Not just with boys, men, with anyone. I don’t date. I haven’t had that. Nowhere even remotely near. Enough to make the other officers not suspicious at university, but not anything serious. Not anything with feelings.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I don’t date. I don’t see people. It isn’t something I consider.’

‘So you’re…scared?’ Kent stood. ‘Scared is fine. Scared is normal.’

‘No.’ He took another step, increasing the distance between the two men. ‘This isn’t what I do. I don’t kiss officers in the back rooms of stations. That isn’t the sort of Inspector I want to be.’

‘And that isn’t the type of officer I am,’ Kent interjected. ‘But it happened. So we now…what? Forget it happened?’

 _The feel of his chest pressed against his own._ ‘No.’

‘No?’ The dark haired man repeated, a glimmer of hope passing quickly through his eyes. ‘Then what?’

‘I just…I can’t date. I don’t date. That isn’t something…’

‘What are you expecting? What do you think will happen from just spending time with someone?’

‘People don’t tend to stick around for long once they spend time with me.’ Chandler interrupted, causing Kent’s mouth, open as if to argue, close quickly. _So that was that_. At the look of pity that was threatening to creep across Kent’s face, he shrugged. ‘Not like that. Just…I know it’s a lot. I know I have a lot for someone to deal with. That’s a fact. It’s easier to just not bother, than continuously find myself losing. It’s just how I choose to live. Nothing to pity. I can live with my own feelings, I struggle more with other people’s.’

‘Not everyone is going to do that,’ Emerson whispered after a moment’s silence. When the Inspector failed to respond, he took a step closer. ‘I wouldn’t do that.’

‘I’ve heard that before. It didn’t prove to be true.’

‘And that was one person.’

‘One too many.’

‘Let me try.’

The second kiss seemed smoother than the first kiss. Kent took Chandler’s hand in his own, and pulled him closer gently. His other hand reached up to cup the man’s cheek softly, before he leaned up and, with eyes closed, kissed him. No part of Joe’s being made him want to pull away. The opposite. His arm wrapped around his officer, holding him closer until he could have sworn he felt his heart pounding through his chest. The second kiss lasted longer, longer than Joe could remember kissing anyone without wanting to pull away.

‘You’re not going to leave this time?’ Kent asked when they broke apart, their bodies still firmly pressed against each other. As if in response, Chandler kissed him again firmly.

‘This can’t come to work.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.’

* * *

 

They arrived at separate times the following morning. They spoke only a handful of times throughout the day as cases were discussed. They ate separately, and left separately at the end of their shifts. And no-one noticed that Chandler was wearing one of Kent’s ties.


	3. Chapter 3

‘I would like to tell Erica.’

‘I’d rather not.’

‘She’s my sister. My twin sister. We’ve told each other everything from pretty much the minute we could speak.’

‘She’s dating Mansell. I’d just…rather you didn’t.’ He could feel the frustration radiating from the other man, but noted with relief that he nodded as he climbed out of the bed.

Joseph Chandler was sat, resting against the headboard, a mug of green tea cooling in his hands as he watched Emerson get dressed. His eyes moved slowly down his body, taking in the hair that had yet to be combed, his pale back, arms that were small but strong. He felt a familiar twinge of guilt as he passed over the striping scars, still an alarming red against the rest of Kent’s skin.

_‘Will they always be there?’ He asked, the first time he had seen them, his stare causing Kent to flush._

_‘Yes.’ Chandler ran a finger lightly across the scars, feeling the other man shiver, though whether from the contact in such an intimate place, or something else, he couldn’t quite tell._

_‘Will they always be so vivid?’_

_‘Perhaps not. But it may take years.’_

_He looked directly into his officer’s face, eyes wide. ‘I’m sorry.’_

_‘Don’t be.’ Kent shook his head. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’_

_‘You shouldn’t have been alone.’_

_‘It could have been much worse.’_

The knowledge had not alleviated Chandler’s guilt at all. He ensured when Kent turned back to him that his face was neutral, his eyes not betraying his focus. The scars were still sensitive, if not physically, then certainly mentally, something he could empathise with more easily than expected. He took a long sip of tea only to realise Kent was looking at him curiously, and he realised he’d not been listening.

‘Sorry?’

‘I was just saying, seeing Erica won’t take too long. If you wanted perhaps, I could, later…’

‘Yes.’ He smiled genuinely, causing Kent’s eyes to brighten. ‘I’d like that.’

* * *

 

DS Miles watched with narrowed eyes from the incident room as the Inspector tidied his office. The door was closed, but through the glass he could see him straightening the files on his desk, aligning the pens, smoothing his papers. Ordinary behaviour, he felt. And yet…

‘He’s whistling.’ Miles hissed to Riley and Mansell, the only the two officers in the department that morning. ‘The boss is whistling. Why is he whistling?’

‘Maybe he’s happy? Isn’t that what people do when they’re happy?’ Riley responded without looking away from her computer screen.

‘You make it sound like you’re not.’

‘With a holiday, I could be.’ She continued typing until, feeling the Sergeant waiting, she finally turned around. ‘What is it, Sarge?’

‘Why is he happy?’

Meg rolled her eyes and glanced over at the office door as well. She shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s got a new hobby. Or made a new friend. Or saved some money on his car insurance. Does it really matter?’

‘Do any of those sound like the boss?’ Miles asked, causing Meg to frown. ‘We haven’t had an interesting case for weeks. Usually he’d be in here demanding we get on with something. Instead, he’s whistling.’ Miles glanced over at Mansell, still sat at his own desk. ‘You’re quiet today.’

‘Well, I don’t need to wonder. I know.’

‘You what?’ Miles and Riley stood quickly in front of Mansell’s desk, a smirk spreading across his face. ‘Go on then.’

‘You won’t like it, skip.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘How’d you know anyway?’ Riley asked but Miles put up a hand in an attempt to shush her. Mansell was still smirking. Meg’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘I’ve seen that look on your face too many times. I know what this is. You’ve seen him out with someone, haven’t you?’

‘The boss has got a girlfriend?’ Miles asked, his face torn between shock and disbelief.

‘You could call it that.’

‘Call what that?’

Mansell leaned in, his colleagues following suit, and he whispered with a wide smile, ‘Kent.’

‘You what?

‘The boss is seeing Kent.’

‘Not a chance.’ Mansell was laughing loudly as Miles and Riley frowned, stepping back from the desk. ‘How would you know that anyway?

‘Erica told me. She went for some coffee thing with Kent at the weekend. Thought he was being a bit cagey so she checked his phone while he was in the bogs. Loads of texts from the boss.’

‘Dodgy texts?’ Riley asked quietly, repressing a giggle.

‘Nah, just texts.’

‘Well, texts can mean anything. Maybe it was about work.’

‘Oh yeah? You spending lots of Saturday nights round the Inspector’s for work, skip?’ He watched the sergeant’s face turn a deep red and he shrugged. ‘Nah, I’m telling you. Kent and the boss, for sure.’

* * *

 

Chandler looked up in surprise as his sergeant burst into the office. He was sat at his desk, a file open, his computer on standby as he awaited an email. Miles looked agitated, yet tired, as if he’d been deep in thought for a while. Without speaking, he gestured to the chair opposite which Miles took, after closing the door. The pair sat in silence for a moment or so, both waiting for the other to speak. Miles decided to start.

‘When were you going to tell me?’

‘Tell you what?’

‘That you’re seeing someone.’

Chandler paused. A frown passed across his face. This was clearly not the conversation he’d been expecting. ‘I don’t understand how this is relevant.’

‘Humour me then. Are you?’

‘No.’

‘And now you’re lying to me.’ Miles stood angrily, turning his back on the Inspector. He took a few deep breaths and faced the other man, whose confusion was evident. ‘I’m your sergeant. We’re a team. You’re supposed to tell me things, and vice versa. I told you all about Judy when I was worried about her. All about the kids. But you aren’t talking to me.’

‘Miles, I really don’t under…’

‘I know all about Kent.’

He felt a rush of guilt as Chandler’s face seemed to grow pale, eyes wide. ‘How?’

‘It wasn’t Kent, if that’s what you’re thinking.’ He watched as his boss returned to his desk, grabbing his balm to rub it almost manically on his temples. He sat down opposite, anger having been washed away by a wave of compassion at the clear panic across his boss’ face. ‘It was Erica. She told Mansell. Snooped through Kent’s phone when he wasn’t looking. He’s as oblivious to this as you.’ He paused, waiting for some sort of response, but the younger man was still sat, eyes closed so tightly they were practically scrunched, as if doing so would change what had happened. ‘You should have just said, boss, about the gay thing. I told you the team was accepting. Can’t believe you’ve kept it all this time.’

Eyes opened in a slight frown. ‘I’m not gay.’

‘Bisexual then. Whatever. All the same here.’

‘No. I’m not…No.’ At the questioning rise in his sergeant’s eyebrows, he sighed. ‘I just…like Kent.’

‘So you aren’t denying it then?’

‘I don’t see a point.’

‘Is it serious?’ Miles asked, and was met with an angry glance, resenting even the notion of discussing such a subject. He shrugged. ‘I need to know, boss, this is my team. You’re my Inspector; he’s one of my officers. Job requires it.’

‘No, not really.’

‘How long then? Couple of dates? Couple of weeks? What?’

‘Three months.’

‘Bloody hell.’ Miles sat back, before immediately leaning forward again, as if almost blown back by the confession. ‘Three months? And that’s not serious for you? The guy who’s turned down every offer of a date I’ve tried to set up on the basis you’re too busy? Three months?’

‘I’d rather not discuss it,’ Chandler mumbled. His face, previously white, had now started to turn red, something Miles had not thought he’d ever see. _Though this was a conversation he never thought he’d have._ ‘You’ve asked the question, you’ve had your answer, we can leave it at that. Who else knows?’

‘Mansell told me and Riley. He might have emailed a couple of the other guys, I don’t know, but you know how it spreads here.’ When the Inspector failed to respond, he gave a small smile. ‘Chin up. It’s not bad stuff, at least. It’s nice.’

‘Nice?’ He sneered.

‘Yeah. People like you. People like Kent. It’s nice.’ He sounded unconvincing, even to himself. The dull look in the other man’s eyes let him know he sounded just as bad to him too. ‘Look, better this than the other things people have said about you. Between Kent, and failing to catch the Ripper, I know what I’d rather have said about me.’

‘But it isn’t you, is it?’

* * *

 

Joe didn’t think he’d ever been so glad to see a dead body as he was that day. He didn’t even mind that it was in poor condition, with no clear means of identification. It just meant more work away from the confines of the office, away from the incident room. The call was made just before midday, which meant he didn’t have to see the team until late afternoon, and when he did there was a case to solve, no time for whispers as he walked past or little jokes when they thought he wasn’t listening.

Though it also meant he had yet to see Kent.

He didn’t need to gather the team when he returned with Miles to the station later; they were already sat, as if in expectation. Kent, who had been with another case in the morning, had returned and was waiting, hands poised over a notebook as usual. Chandler refused to meet his eyes.

‘We have a male victim, aged roughly between 35 and 40. Caucasian. No identification found on the body, fingerprints have been burnt clean off. The killer did not want their victim to be identified easily.’

‘Suggests the killer knew him,’ Kent said, forcing Chandler to look over at him. He was aware of the look that passed between Riley and Mansell.

‘Yes.’ He was distracted, the look on Kent’s face made him force down a smile. He turned back to the board, pinning photos of the body, ordering his thoughts once more. ‘Now, the victim was killed by a number of deep wounds. We’ll know more when we get the autopsy result, but I would like someone to search the area nearby where the body was found in case the weapon was discarded there. There wasn’t CCTV in the area, but there was some a few streets away and I also need someone to check that to see if there was anyone acting suspiciously around the time of the murder. Mansell, Riley, I want you to take those jobs.’ He pinned another couple of photos on the board. ‘The victim had few identifying marks, but did have a number of tattoos. Kent, you were pretty successful last time in this area, so I want you to take this. Take the photos to tattoo studios, artists; try finding what these tattoos meant.’

‘Suppose we have someone else we could ask about Kent’s secret tattoos now,’ Mansell joked once he believed the Inspector to be out of earshot. He was wrong.

* * *

 

The interview room was empty that night, apart from the lone figure stood in front of the board, examining the photos carefully. He was no longer wearing his jacket, but it was hung carefully in his office, not just flung over the back of a chair like some of the team still did. The room was still, and for the first time that day, Chandler felt himself breathe with ease.

‘Sir?’

Kent’s voice made him turn, and this time he allowed himself to smile. At the sight, Kent entered the room and approached the board, file in hand.

‘There’s no-one else here. It doesn’t have to be ‘sir’.’

‘I wasn’t sure.’ He stood next to his Inspector, who had turned back to continue studying the photos. After a moment’s silence, he looked up, ‘I couldn’t identify the body. His tattoos are generic, by any standard; however I still printed the research I did on them, just in case.’

‘Erica told Mansell about us…this…you and me,’ Chandler said. At the panic he saw in his officer’s eyes, he shook his head. ‘I know it wasn’t you. She admitted she looked through your phone. But it means the whole team knows now.’

‘I’m sorry. I never thought she’d do that. I’ll talk to her. Get her to tell Mansell it was a joke or something…’

‘No.’ Chandler interrupted, turning to face his officer fully. ‘I’ve been thinking about it today, with this case. I don’t want to be this man. I don’t want to one day be found, unmissed, unidentified. I don’t want to be someone that could happen to, but I have been, all my life. Not now though. I feel like someone would notice now.’

‘Of course someone would notice. We’d all notice- the sarge would notice, Buchan would be distraught, even Mansell would say something…’ Kent paused. ‘And I would certainly miss you. If your fear is that you’d be unmissed, then I can tell you you’d be wrong. I would miss you.’

‘You know it’s been three months? Miles was asking me earlier, I told him. I hadn’t realised.’

‘Three months last Tuesday.’ Kent flushed slightly. At the Inspector’s confused frown, he shrugged. ‘I’ve been keeping track.’

The blond man smiled once more, the warmest he’d ever looked in the Whitechapel incident room. ‘I think three months might be long enough to start telling people.’

* * *

 

At three minutes past midnight, a new email arrived in the inbox of DI Joseph Chandler, demanding an urgent meeting with Commander Anderson regarding inappropriate conduct and abuse of power. Chandler slept on, oblivious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The clock on the wall was unreasonably loud. Every second that passed seemed to become agonisingly longer when accompanied by the unnecessary sound. Chandler flexed his fingers, trying to fight against the urge he was feeling to wash. He could feel the beginning of a migraine behind his eyes. His tiger balm was in his pocket, but to get it out would be a show of weakness. Scrunching his eyes only seemed to intensify the pain. And still the clocked ticked loudly in front of him.

‘DI Chandler?’ A man’s voice as the oak door finally opened beside Joe, and the Commander stepped forward, looking down at him. ‘Come in.’

He waited for Chandler to get comfortable on the chair before the desk, or at least partially comfortable. He noticed the miniscule drops of sweat on the man’s forehead, the nail marks in his palm from clenching his fists too tightly, the inability to meet the Commander’s eyes. DCI Anderson then leant forward, and smiled broadly.

‘Well, Joe, of all the things I expected from you in Whitechapel, this is certainly not one of them.’ He relished in the sudden look of surprise on the other man’s face, the Commander’s reaction clearly not the one he had prepared himself for. ‘You expected to walk into this office for a bit of a bollocking, didn’t you?’

‘I must say that was closer to what I had expected.’ He stammered, still not quite sure what to make of the older man’s greeting. ‘The email was rather more heavy, sir.’

‘It had to be, I’m afraid, for the records. I’m sorry for that.’ He sat back, the amused look still on his face as he looked at Chandler. ‘But, seriously, Joe, you needn’t fear this meeting at all. Why don’t we just start by you telling me why you’re here?’

‘I’ve had…been having…a relationship with a junior colleague.’

‘For how long?’

‘Three months.’ He remembered Kent’s flushed face the day before as he had said the same. ‘Three months last Tuesday.’

‘Has this happened before?’

‘No.’ Chandler couldn’t help but blurt out his answer. ‘No. I couldn’t even explain how it has happened now. But this is the first.’ He paused. ‘How did you even find out about this, sir? We…I had kept it from my own team until very recently.’

‘It came from your own team, actually.’ He shook his head at the sudden look of panic that crossed the Inspector’s face. ‘Nothing like that, Joe. It was a simple coincidence. Someone overheard a member of your team, a…Mr Buchan, I believe, who you seem to keep in Whitechapel as some bizarre history pet if I understand. It only reached me because everyone was so surprised it was you.’

‘And this meeting?’

‘I could hardly ignore such an allegation, Joe.’ Despite the severity of his words, he smiled again. ‘But this is merely for dotting all the ‘i’s, crossing the ‘t’s, I assure you. Now, the next steps…’

‘I’m prepared to hand in my resignation, sir. Or accept a new position elsewhere. Whatever would cause the least embarrassment to my team…’

‘Joe.’ Anderson held up a hand, and chuckled as Chandler’s mouth hung open for a second or so before he closed it quickly and sat back. ‘I don’t want your resignation. I don’t need you to move. Whilst I may have concerns over the Whitechapel police force, I can’t imagine finding another Inspector willing to take over your position. In fact, your resignation is the very last thing I need right now. The press have it out for us. At the moment, though, they’re blaming budget cuts for any failures perceived by the public. Budget cuts I can work with. The idea that the police failed to catch the Ripper, or any serial killer in Whitechapel since for that matter, because the department  Inspector had been dallying with one of his officers, that I can’t work with.’

Chandler tried to stop himself from blushing as he Commander spoke, but felt his cheeks redden with shame regardless. ‘So what do you want me to do?’

‘You don’t need to do anything. We’ll move your officer.’ Anderson turned to his computer, typing quickly. ‘There are a number of vacancies across London at the moment, we can simply move your officer into one of them. Vice. Fraud. I believe there’s a sergeant’s position in drugs squad, currently. Small promotion to prevent any possible harassment scandals. Nothing too far away, of course, for your benefit, Joe. How does that sound?’

Chandler felt his heart thudding. He had a resignation letter in his pocket, his resignation letter, written and rewritten that morning over the space of two hours. But now, no resignation, no move. _Not for him, at least_. Kent flashed through his mind again. Kent being moved across London, just for him. Just to prevent any scandal for him. _But as a sergeant_ …

‘It’s a generous offer, sir, but I need to ask. I can’t just…’

‘Excellent then. Give me the number.’

‘Number?’

‘Your officer’s police number, Joe.’ He typed it into the computer as Chandler recited it and then sat back whilst the database loaded. ‘I’m surprised you expected so much from this meeting. If we had to dismiss every senior officer who got involved with a colleague, well then…’

He stopped. He frowned. And his eyes seemed to darken as he looked back at Chandler. He sat forward in his chair; any hint of his previous smile having disappeared to such an extent it was difficult to imagine it ever having existed.

‘Repeat the number, Joe.’ His frown only deepened as Chandler spoke, and there was a moment of silence. ‘Emerson Kent, is this the officer?’

The tension was back in the room, and Chandler very hesitantly nodded. ‘Yes, DC Kent is the officer.’

‘Your father knew all along.’ Anderson turned away from the Inspector with a look of disgust and stood up, moving to the window. He kept his back to Joe as he spoke. ‘When you were young, your father knew. Your mother tried to deny it, but she must have had some inclination. Before he died, your father told me to keep an eye on you, do my best to keep you away from all this, but it seems I have clearly failed.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re trying to say…’

‘A man, Joe, a bloody man.’ He turned suddenly, the disgust replaced with a cold anger. ‘How can you sit there and not realise what you’ve been doing? Not feel any sort of shame? Your father was embarrassed by just the notion that his son could be…but you don’t seem to show any notion of recognition.’

‘You aren’t being serious, sir.’ Every word seemed like a gut punch to the Inspector. Maybe not a gut punch, maybe the words were biting, because he felt himself grow light-headed as if the Commander had laced each word with a poison that was now coursing his blood.

‘How can I possibly be joking? Could you imagine if the press got hold of this? The Whitechapel police failing to catch their killers not because of budget cuts, but because their Inspector is too busy down a back alley with one of his male officers? They would tear us to shreds.’ He sat down again, but his anger remained. A glance at the computer screen again only caused his eyes to grow darker. ‘Your officer will have to be moved.’

‘You said that, sir, the drugs squad.’

‘You want me to reward this?’ Give your sordid affair some sort of special prize? No. There’s a position in Sheffield- same department, same position. I’ll phone their Inspector and suggest the move.’

 _Sheffield_. The room really was starting to spin. The pain behind his eyes was excruciating, nauseating, but Joe forced himself to stand. ‘Sir, you can’t do that. DC Kent is a capable officer with a promising future…’

‘Then Sheffield will suit him fine.’ Anderson looked up at Chandler with a cool stare. ‘In a week’s time, the officer will be moved. And you will have finished whatever pathetic excuse for a relationship you say you’ve started. You’re dismissed, DI Chandler.’

‘Sir.’

‘You’re dismissed.’


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Miles was perched on the edge of a desk when Chandler stormed back into the incident room. He took one look around, noting the clear lack of work from all of his colleagues and their expectant faces, waiting for any news he might have, and he walked past them all straight into his office. He slammed the door without saying a word.

Miles and Riley exchanged a worried glance. He straightened up. ‘Alright you lot, get back to it. Mansell, CCTV. Riley, go check on Buchan. Kent, chase down those records. We won’t get anything done just sat around.’

No-one argued, instead just nodding and taking up whatever position they’d been given. Riley gave Kent’s shoulder a small squeeze as she passed him, his eyes firmly forward on the closed door of the Inspector’s office.

Chandler was sat at his desk, head tipped back, his hand clutching a small glass of clear liquid that was quite clearly not water, when Miles entered the office. Without opening his eyes, Chandler muttered,

‘I don’t want to speak to anyone.’

‘And I don’t want to be at work right now, but you deal with what you’ve got.’ Miles sat down, leaning over to take the glass from Chandler’s outstretched arm. He picked it up and sniffed it. ‘So I’m right to assume the meeting went badly then?’

The Inspector sat forward. ‘It couldn’t really have gone much worse.’

‘Should I be expecting a new Inspector anytime soon?’

‘He didn’t accept my resignation letter.’ Chandler took the glass back and swallowed the contents in one. He ignored the concern on his colleague’s face.

‘So what? You got a little ticking off? No harm done if you’re still here, boss.’

‘I’m still here. Kent won’t be for much longer.’ He did his best to disguise his anger, but still felt the bitter tones on his tongue as he spoke. ‘Kent has a week before he’s being transferred to Sheffield.’

‘Sheffield?’

‘To be moved onto the same team as here.’

‘That can’t be legal.’ Miles frowned. ‘I know plenty of Inspectors having it off with the officers on their team- I know some Inspectors having it off with basically anyone they meet in a skirt. None of them have been moved.’

‘This is different.’ He flashed back to the look on the Commander’s face as he realised who Kent was. The disgust in his eyes. ‘This is an embarrassment.’

A knock on the door interrupted them. It opened slowly, and Kent was stood there, his face part way between sheepish and concerned. ‘Sorry but, skip, I got those records back and there’s a couple of things you might want to look at…’ He let himself tail off, his gaze firmly locked on Chandler. Miles gave a little nod.

‘Well, I probably ought to have a look then.’ He stood up. ‘Leave you two to it. I’ll empty out the office for you, boss, don’t think this conversation needs any eavesdroppers.’ He left, barking orders as he went. ‘Mansell, with me, door to door, no excuses.’

The door shut behind him, leaving Kent and Chandler alone in the office. Kent could smell the alcohol from Chandler’s glass, could see the way the Inspector refused to meet his eyes. ‘What happened?’

‘Not right now.’

‘What do you mean ‘not right now’? That meeting concerned me as well as you, Joe. I need to know what he said.’ He took Miles’ chair, and watched as Chandler reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of clear vodka. He shook his head at the Inspector’s offer, and instead glanced down as he poured himself another glass and swallowed the contents in one. He waited a moment or so. ‘Have you resigned?’

‘No.’

‘Have you been suspended? Given a warning?’

‘No.’

‘Then it’s alright.’ Kent was nearly smiling, the relief on his face causing Chandler’s chest to constrict with guilt. ‘We can be more careful, but it’ll be fine. The Commander will forget…’

‘He’s arranging your transfer to Sheffield,’ Chandler said quietly, as if keeping the words soft would stop their real meaning from hitting. A naïve idea.

‘Sheffield? I don’t understand. I haven’t applied for a transfer.’

‘I know. He knows. He refused to accept my resignation but he can move you easily enough. There’s a spot on the same team in Sheffield, you’ll be starting next week.’

‘I’m not moving to Sheffield. I can’t. I won’t.’ The initial confusion had gone, to be replaced with an undeniable fury. He felt the beginning of white hot tears of frustration in his eyes, and he tried to blink them back.

‘We can’t stay on the same team…’

‘So I’ll transfer in London, that’s easily done. There must be officer vacancies all over the city. I don’t care where. I’m not going to bloody Sheffield.’

‘There’s nothing that can be done.’ His hand was reaching again for the bottle, but Kent was quicker this time, placing his hand over Chandler’s and holding the bottle down.

‘Don’t you care, Joe? You went in with your resignation, and left seemingly fine with sending me halfway up the country. Is that what you want?’ He wasn’t stopping the tears now. The sight of them falling down his officer’s cheeks seemed to shatter any last attempt of Joe’s to fight the grief in his chest.

‘Of course I care. Of course I hate this. Any other Inspector in this force can fool around with any woman he chooses, have dalliances however unprofessionally and he’ll not only face no consequences for this, he’ll be slapped on the back and called a great bloke. I pursue a single relationship with a man I love and I get punished.’ He seemed to notice slowly exactly what he’d said, and he glanced at Kent as if to check if he had realised too. One look told him that he had.  

‘A man you love?’ He asked slowly, feeling his heart pound against his ribcage as he did so.

‘Yes. Not exactly how I had pictured saying that, wrong time, wrong place, wrong occasion. But yes, I love you, Emerson.’

Kent stood up and circled the desk until he was next to the Inspector. He bent down to place a soft kiss on his lips, lingering as long as he possibly could, before leaning back against the wooden top. ‘I’ll resign, Joe. They will never accept your resignation. The Commander would probably send me away out of spite even if they did. But I’ll resign. That’s ok.’

‘It’s not fair.’

‘But I can stay here then. With you.’

* * *

 

A splash of liquid in a glass tumbler. A roar of laughter in the corner. Andersen sat back in his chair, listening to the man in front of him as he told another bizarre and rather pointless story. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was that man being a member of the Cabinet, and Andersen needed to keep him sweet.

A slam of a door behind him, and sudden shouting forced the Commander to sit up and turn. It was with a sigh that he saw the blond man approaching him, being followed by a very apologetic club employee, desperately trying to call him back.

‘Detective Inspector Chandler.’ Andersen stood up. ‘What are you doing here? I’m almost certain our meeting this morning resolved any issues we may have had.’

‘Sir, I…’

‘DI Chandler? From the Ripper case?’ The politician stepped closer, holding out a hand, which Chandler shook unwillingly. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the employee who’d been tasked with Chandler’s removal. ‘I’m a big fan. Shame you never caught the bugger, mind you. Can’t think what could’ve stopped you.’

‘Well it could have been budget cuts, sir,’ Chandler said bluntly, withdrawing his hand as the politician’s eyes widened. ‘Or it could have been the lack of support I received from senior officials during the case, support I have still yet to receive.’

‘Joe.’ The Commander hissed, grabbing the Inspector’s elbow and steering him roughly away to an empty corner. ‘Are you out of your mind? Do you know who he is?’

‘I couldn’t care who he is.’

‘Why are you here? This is a private member’s club, something you lost all invitation to when you lost your professional senses. You are a complete embarrassment, to yourself and to me…’

‘I’m an embarrassment to you regardless of this, sir, you told me that already today.’ He shook off the Commander’s hand, and he noted the Inspector’s bloodshot eyes for the first time.

‘Are you drunk, Joe?’

‘Of course not.’

It was a lie. A very blatant lie. He’d stayed at work long past the end of the day, sending even Kent home with the promise of seeing him in the evening. But he couldn’t face it. And so the vodka and stayed out, the bottle getting progressively emptier, until a plan had finally come to him. A plan inspired now, he realised, by pure liquid confidence instead of any logical reasoning.

‘Go home, Joe, you have no reason to be here.’ The Commander dismissed him with a wave of the hand, but Chandler stepped in front of him.

‘I’m not going. You do not get to decide my life for me.’

‘I am your superior officer.’

‘So take my resignation from this morning, and be done with it,’ Chandler said, eyes narrowed. ‘But you don’t want that. You don’t want me outside of your influence.’

‘I promised your father…’

‘But you are not my father,’ he snapped. He wanted to shout, but even in his state could recognise this would draw more attention than he wanted, but still he felt the urge in his throat. ‘You are not my father. You do not get to control my life in the way he would have done.’

‘If this is about your ridiculous… _relationship_ you claim to have with that officer, then you are certainly not the man I thought you to be, Joe.’

‘Of course, I’m not. I could never be the man you thought I was. That man is pathetic and desperate for your validation and willing to give up everything for it.’

‘And you’d rather be this?’ He asked, face twisted in disgust. ‘A homosexual?’

‘Yes.’

‘You will never progress, you know that?’

‘I understand that entirely.’

‘You’re happy with that? Staying in Whitechapel with your group of sub-par officers and dull cases? The kebab shop stabbings and alcohol induced domestic abuse? Then go home every night to...him? When you had potential to be so much more?'

‘Yes. If I get to stay with him, then yes.'

The Commander looked at him differently for a minute, his eyes softer, before straightening up. ‘Keep your officer then, if you’re so determined to be this, Joe. But be aware that if any of this mess gets leaked to the press, you will not have my support.’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time, sir.’

‘You’re an embarrassment to your father, Joseph.’

‘I already knew that, sir.’

* * *

 

Kent was already getting ready for bed when he heard the knock on the door. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but a very drunk Chandler to stumble in was definitely low down on his list, despite watching him with the vodka bottle earlier in the day. He persuaded him to remove his clothes before he fell onto the bed, even folding them for him and placing them carefully on a chair, and he climbed in beside the Inspector.

‘You smell like a bar.’ He observed, waiting for a response. He got none. ‘Were you at a bar?’

‘No.’

‘A club?’ The notion was ridiculous, sand in the dark he saw the corners of Chandler’s lips raise in a smile.

‘Not the kind that you're thinking of.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I spoke to the Commander.’

‘Like this?’ Kent raised himself up on one arm to look down at the other man with an expression of disbelief. ‘You spoke to the Commander like this? I’m sure that did wonders.’

His sarcasm was met with an arm snaking around his waist and pulling him down. Just that movement caused his heart to leap. ‘It did. You aren’t going anywhere.’

He frowned. ‘Seriously?’

'Yes.'

'I'm staying in Whitechapel. Not going to Sheffield?'

'No.'

'How?'

‘It doesn't matter.'

'What did the Commander say?'

'That I would never progress, and I’m an embarrassment to my family. But you're staying.'

He wasn’t sure how to respond, so fell into silence. He settled for lightly kissing Chandler’s shoulder, though out of thanks or for reassurance he wasn’t certain. The couple lay in the dark for a few minutes, wordless, motionless, apart from the movements of their chests. Kent eventually spoke.

‘Earlier, Joe, what you said…’

‘Yes.’

‘I didn’t say anything back. I wasn’t sure whether I could have said anything back, with everything…’

‘Understandable.’

‘I love you, Joe. Of course, I love you. I’ve probably loved you for months and months but I just wasn’t sure if telling you would scare you away or…’

‘Em?’

‘Yes.’ He leant up, to feel Chandler’s lips against his, and his arms pulling him closer against his chest. He felt the warmth of his skin against his own, tasted the remnants of vodka on his tongue, yet felt himself smile still against the kiss.

‘Now, go to sleep.’


End file.
